


Say Hello, Wave Goodbye

by exeterlinden



Category: due South
Genre: First Time, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-18
Updated: 2006-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:16:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exeterlinden/pseuds/exeterlinden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray realizes that his decision to make it a clean cut and start fresh when he came back from Canada was a load of bull, because: a) when he made that decision he had no idea how mind-numbingly boring being back in Chicago was going to be, b) Fraser is nine hours away, and c) It's not like him and Fraser was married or anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say Hello, Wave Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to shayheyred for working wonders on the grammar and punctuation of this one!

**Prologue**

****

They follow the trail north along the shore of the Boothia Peninsula, making it as far as Peel Sound before they have to turn around. It’s late April by then and the temperature’s rising, making the snow thick and sticky. They reach Pelly Bay in the last week of May and are met there by half the city coming out of their houses to greet them. By then both Ray and Fraser and the dogs are several kilos lighter, tired and in need of rest.

A couple of townsfolk take care of the dogs and the sled while others guide them to the Inukshuk Inn, the town’s only hotel. After checking in - which can’t be done without the telling and retelling of their story to every new face - they throw away their traveling clothes and take long hot showers. They shave and cut each other’s hair with a dull pair of scissors, scattering it all over one of the beds' duvets. Afterwards Ray leans back on the bed and falls asleep, barechested, arms over his head, lying on locks of brown and blonde hair.

Fraser leaves him to go out into the city. He talks to Pam, the owner of the hotel, and learns that there’s a plane coming in, in three days time to pick up a fishing party. It will take them as far as Yellowknife, where they will be able to get connecting flights. He walks to the local RCMP office to talk with Ron, the only officer stationed there. When he comes back to the hotel Ray is awake again and by the phone, talking to Welsh. As it turns out, Ray’s paid vacation time ran out a week ago.

They spend the last three days sleeping and eating, for the most part. Ray seems in low spirits, preoccupied; Fraser finds his attempts at conversation mostly ignored. On the second day they sell the dogs, the sled, and most of their equipment. Ray says a rather emotional goodbye to Viking, a big friendly Malamute/Siberian Husky crossbreed that he favoured; Dief does the same to Luna, the team’s bitch.

He promised Ray a steak dinner at the end of their trip. Pam’s brother has just brought home a musk ox, and Pam agrees to cook them the tenderloin at the hotel. It cheers Ray up; after he’s had two servings of steak and a couple of beers he’s red-faced and laughing, more like his usual self. They talk about the expedition, about old cases and old acquaintances. Ray hides a big lump of meat in a napkin to bring out to Dief, who has spent most of their time there grumbling about the Inuit’s failure to regard dogs as indoor pets.

The flight comes in at eight a.m. the next morning, so they go to bed early. Fraser lies awake for a while after they’ve turned in. He looks at Ray sleeping across from him, far gone, snoring slightly. It’s been as good an end to their trip as anyone could wish for, a fine way to end their partnership. Still he falls asleep feeling unsettled, out of sorts.

The trip to Yellowknife is noisy; in addition to Fraser, Ray and five Yellowknife locals, the plane carries two teams of sled dogs and ten kilos of freshly caught fish - much of the trip is a struggle to keep the dogs from the fish. In Yellowknife, Ray has a five hour wait for a plane that will take him to Edmonton, to catch a connecting flight to O’Hare. Ray buys them coffee and tea with the last of his Canadian money. They play poker for Smarties like they did on the trip; the cards stick to the plastic tabletop.

When Ray’s flight is announced Fraser walks him to his boarding area. “So…” Ray says, “it’s been good knowing you.”

Fraser finds himself short of words. “Likewise, Ray.” They hug.

Ray bends down to ruffle Diefenbaker’s fur. “You take good care of him. Make him buy you doughnuts.” Dief whines uncertainly. Ray straightens up; he smiles wryly at Fraser before turning away. Fraser stays until Ray has disappeared down the boarding ramp. Then he turns around and walks out of the airport. 

Unaccustomed and unwilling to go unemployed, Fraser applies for the first available posting, which happens to be in Banff, Alberta. He is surprised to receive an excited phone call only three days after mailing his application. He has apparently become something of a hero within the RCMP after the Muldoon case. This had escaped him those two months out on the ice. Sergeant Nielsen says he would be honored to employ him. He travels down to Banff the next day, feeling restless and eager to get back to work.

The posting turns out to be mostly of a supervising nature. Banff and the surrounding national parks have roughly four million visitors every year; the RCMP works closely with the local police and park wardens to ensure a safe environment in the city and the parks. His assignments include patrolling the parks, leading searches for missing hikers, and solving the crimes that occur in the city of Banff. Apart from Nielsen, his supervisor, there is only one other RCMP member in Banff: Constable McDermott, a pleasant man who carries a certain resemblance to Turnbull that has Fraser constantly underestimating him. It’s a far cry from the work that he has been used to, both in his postings far north, and in Chicago. If nothing else can be said, at least it has brought him close to the border.

 

  


**Chapter One**

**Sat, Aug 18  United Airlines **   
_Depart: 5:05pm  Chicago, IL (ORD)  
Arrive: 7:18pm  Denver, CO (DEN)  
Depart: 8:32pm Denver, CO (DEN)  
Arrive: 10:58pm Calgary, Canada (YYC) _

**Sat, Aug 25  United Airlines **   
_Depart: 8:52am  Calgary, Canada (YYC)  
Arrive: 11:15am  Denver, CO (DEN)  
Depart: 2:25pm  Denver, CO (DEN)  
Arrive: 5:49pm  Chicago, IL (ORD) _

It was Francesca’s idea: Ray was complaining about not knowing what to do for his summer vacation, and Frannie said “hey, why don’t you visit Fraser?” And that got him thinking _why the hell not_? It’s not like he can’t afford it: as adventures go, dog sledding isn’t very expensive so the expedition hasn’t taken a lot out of his savings. And Fraser is in Banff, which is only a six hour flight with one stopover, about five hundred bucks. So why the hell not?

He calls Fraser to ask if it's o.k. and Fraser seems happy about the idea; as a matter of fact, Fraser would be _delighted_. Fraser can also get some time off, and would love to show him Banff and the Rockies. So that’s great. That’s greatness. He starts actually looking forward to his vacation, and he realizes that his decision to make it a clean cut and start fresh when he came back from Canada was a load of bull anyway, because: a) when he made that decision he had no idea how mind-numbingly boring being back in Chicago was going to be, b) Fraser is nine hours away, and c) It’s not like him and Fraser was married or anything. 

He takes a five o’clock flight from O’Hare to Denver, eats a pretzel and gets heartburn, takes the plane from Denver to Calgary, gets lost in the airport and finally finds the bus that will take him to Banff. Ray hates buses, back from the days when he took the Greyhound to visit Stella in college and hated buses because he couldn’t get off to smoke. It’s a two hour drive with a lot of twists and turns, and it‘s dark outside. Ray gets nauseous and nervous about driving off a cliff; and then he gets nervous wondering whether it’s going to be weird seeing Fraser again, what they’re going to do for an entire week, what they’re going to talk about. He bites his nails, old habit.

Fraser’s at the bus station waiting for him, and Ray almost doesn’t recognize him, he’s so changed. On the trip Ray'd gotten used to Fraser being ten pounds lighter, bearded, sunburned and weatherworn. Now he looks big and pink and healthy, clean-shaven in clean clothes. He even smells like soap when they hug. Fraser lets out a deep breath and claps his hands together, smiling that wide smile that makes Ray notice his pointy corner teeth. "You look happy." Ray says, and it comes out sounding like an accusation, which he didn't mean for it to do.

Fraser's smile fades, and he looks down at the ground as if he's a little embarrassed about it now. "I'm happy to see you, Ray."  He says finally, and it makes Ray feel like a dick, but also kind of happy.

They get his bags and Fraser drives them back to his house - and whoa, Ray didn’t need to worry about what to do, ‘cause on the way there Fraser runs through the _schedule_ that he’s prepared, and by the sound of it they’ve got plans up the ying-yang, they’ve got plans to last them well into the new year. That’s all right by Ray; he leans back in his seat and closes his eyes, listening.

They reach Fraser’s house and pretty it's not - small with hardly any furniture, nothing but a kitchenette, bathroom, a small living room and bedroom - but this is the guy that used to live in a broom closet, so Ray figures it’s a step up. Dief acts snotty, not even bothering to lift his head to acknowledge his arrival. “I’m afraid he took your leaving rather hard.” Fraser lowers his voice “He doesn’t really want to talk about it, but I think he felt a little betrayed.”

“Huh, that’s too bad." Ray digs into his bag for a greasy tin foil wrap. “I guess no-one’ll be wanting this pizza I brought, then?” Dief’s by his feet in an instant, whining, tongue lolling. Sometimes Ray could swear that the wolf isn’t really deaf.

Fraser makes them dinner: regular spaghetti and meat sauce - no raw seal, no caribou stew and no aged walrus, thank God. Afterwards Ray does the dishes - he’s going to be a polite guest - and they watch a game of curling on T.V. It’s a pretty good sign of how much he’s missed hanging out with Fraser that he’s willing to sit through two hours of broom-sweeping, stone-throwing women screaming at the top of their lungs. He spends most of the game looking at Fraser, who’s flushed and sitting on the edge of his seat, eyes wild with excitement. It makes Ray laugh, on the inside.

Afterwards, Fraser makes him up a bed on the couch, and before zoning out he has this crazy idea to ask Fraser to leave his bedroom door open. He just got used to it on their trip - Fraser sleeping within arm’s reach. Stupid, like he’s a kid. He falls asleep smiling at himself.

The next couple of days Fraser drags him from one museum to the next. They go to the Whyte Museum Of The Canadian Rockies, the Buffalo Nations Luxton Museum, Canada Place, the Canadian Ski Museum (a total drag, who gives a flying fuck about the history of skiing? Fraser seems to; but then again, Ray knows for a fact that Fraser thinks a block of wood is exciting), the Cave and Basin National Historic Site, the Banff Park Museum National Historic Site, which is actually kind of cool, and Cascade Gardens (again, who cares? It’s flowers). There are a lot of young lovers in the park, though, and Ray feels a little weird all of a sudden, walking next to Fraser telling him about the White Mountain Avens.

Ray thinks Banff is maybe the most un-Canadian part of Canada he has seen: first of all there don’t actually seem to be that many Canadians; mostly it’s tourists asking Fraser if he’ll pose for a picture. Second - the place is crowded with people, paved, crammed with huge European style hotels. And while Fraser assures him that this is just as representative of Canada as the N.W.T., Ray still feels like Canada really is supposed to be more about frozen rivers, dried fish and Inuit laughing at you because you look funny.

Wednesday, Fraser has pulled some strings and gotten them a couple of hours on the ice rink after closing hours. Ray hasn’t played a lot of hockey, but he went skating with Stella back in the days. He’s no way near as good as Fraser, but he makes up for it by playing dirty. They play a couple of good, hard games, pushing each other into the boards, elbowing each other, pulling jerseys, laughing.

When they finally head back to the locker room, they’re both sweating and out of breath. Ray shrugs off his jersey. He’s got a smile on his lips, thinking up a witty retort to Fraser’s last jib in a line of witty banter, when Fraser says “You’re bruised, Ray,” in a hushed, serious tone.

And - yeah - he is, brown, yellow bruise on his right side that he only feels when he’s stretching. “Yeah, perp got me pretty good, hurt like a mother- uh, real bad; couple of weeks back,”  he lifts his arm to get a look at it, winces.

“You should have told me, Ray.”

Ray lets his arm drop, shimmies into his t-shirt. “What? And give you the advantage?” And he’s grinning, almost laughing, when he catches the look on Fraser’s face; he looks resentful - Ray’s made him feel foolish or self-conscious or something - his mouth is pulled tight and unhappy.

The last two days Fraser has planned a hiking trip to Twin Lakes. Before the expedition, Ray would have sworn that he was a city kid; he used to hate communing with nature and all that country boy crap, didn’t like any kind of communing that couldn’t be done at a rest stop on the I-90. By now, he’s kind of grown to like it, working hard, pushing yourself - it’s almost like boxing.

It’s a good tough climb, hard enough to shut them up on the steepest parts, enough to make Ray regret smoking twenty a day for the best of twenty years. His muscles are burning and the backpack hurts his shoulders, but he realizes that Fraser isn’t slowing down for him and that makes it all worth it.

They reach the lakes at dusk. The campsite is deserted and the view over the lakes is amazing. They’ve got the setting camp routine nailed by now: Fraser sets the tent and rolls out the sleeping bags while Ray gets the primus fired up. They’re having real food tonight, none of that freeze dried stuff. Ray pours a container of chopped onions on the pan, ground beef, a can of beans. They eat it with fresh bread that Fraser fries in the fat on the pan. Ray suddenly remembers that story about the seal he caught in the fjord near Gjoa Haven, and it’s still funny. Their voices sound loud in the quiet; the dark makes it easy to imagine that the world ends just outside their circle of firelight, just like on the trip. 

They rinse out the pan and their and bowls, and Ray’s getting ready to boil water for coffee when Fraser opens his bag and pulls out a six pack of the local brew. It’s almost enough to make Ray tear up, “Fraser, words cannot express how much I love you right now.”

Fraser runs a thumb over his eyebrow, glint of humour in his eye, “Ah… symbolically, I presume?” 

"You got it, Fraser buddy”. The first two are still warm from Fraser’s body heat, but the last one is so cold it makes the hair on his arms stand up. With the hard day’s work and the fresh air, Ray’s a little drunk by the end of it. He leans back and closes his eyes and only half listens to the story that Fraser is telling him. He falls asleep. Fraser wakes him up and hands him a flashlight and they gather up their food and cutlery, and Fraser shows him how to put up a bear bag. They decide to sleep in their clothes and crawl into the tent. It’s a lot smaller than the one they used for the expedition, but they make do.

**   
**

**Interlude: Chicago**

Couple of weeks after he’s back, Welsh calls him into his office and asks him to close the door. “Vecchio’s coming back,” he says. And Ray’s first thought is that Stella’s kicked him out, and he can see himself patting Vecchio patronizingly on the back: _oh yeah, I know the Stella_. But then Welsh says “he’s coming back with his wife… And a citation for bravery.”

And Ray’s been undercover; hell, he has even tried returning to _his_ old precinct with a citation, so it’s not like Welsh has to spell it out for him. “Oh, c’mon!” Ray knew there was something fishy about that bowling alley story.

Welsh leans over his table, looking at him firmly “Is this going to be a problem for you, Kowalski?”

He checks himself. “No sir.”

At least it makes him feel a little better that Welsh obviously thinks that Ray could take Vecchio. It makes him feel better for about five minutes, until he realizes that Welsh could also be thinking that Ray is a homicidal maniac.

Stella and Vecchio return to the precinct a week later. Both of them are tanned, and Stella’s strawberry blonde is bleached pale from the sun. At least they have the sense to tread carefully around him. Vecchio actually kind of freaks him out the first couple of weeks, being all polite and respectful. It makes Ray paranoid, makes him think that someone’s laughing at him somewhere, so it ends up being a relief when Vecchio reverts to the sarcastic, smirking bastard that Ray remembers. 

Stella he can hardly recognize, and it’s not the blonde hair that makes the difference: she looks happy, relaxed. She tones it down when he’s around but he still hears her laugh from down the hall. He can’t remember hearing that laugh for years, not since before they got married. It makes him want to punch something, or cry maybe. Instead he calls up Fraser a bunch of times on his work phone. Fraser doesn’t seem to mind.

When Fraser asks him how he is, Ray tells him that he misses him. It makes him feel weird, and he wonders what Fraser makes of it. Does he even notice or think about it? Because Ray doesn’t know what it’s like up there in Canada, but in Chicago, that’s something a husband and a wife would say to each other when they’re apart: “How are you honey?” “I miss you.” Something like that. He’s not saying that - whatever it is he’s not saying - he’s just saying that an old cop partner might feel it, and might slip it into conversation: “My new partner is a dork, sure ain’t like the old days, Fraser.” Like that. That’d be alright, that’d be buddies. This… This, he feels kind of weird saying, kind of clingy.

He tells himself that he’s worrying for nothing. It’s not like Fraser has any sense of normality, anyway. Ray actually likes that about him, that he can just tell Fraser whatever comes to mind, without worrying about the whole macho, godfather, mano-a-mano deal. And when Fraser asks Ray how he is, that’s apparently it. But at the same time Ray’s beginning to worry that he has some sort of psychological issue. Frannie once told him about this shrink who says that if you don’t get enough motherly love when you’re a kid you won’t be able to let go later in life, and you just want to hold onto people forever. And okay, Ray feels like he was damn near smothered in motherly love, but he can see a pattern: He met Stella when he was ten and ended up running around after her acting like a dork, wanting to be close to her for more than twenty years. He even still misses her, always will.

And now Fraser. He meets him, he likes him, he hangs out with him all the time and now that he’s gone, Ray misses him. He misses him in freakishly improbable proportions. So maybe Frannie and this psychologist guy are onto something. Maybe Ray ought to go chase up his mom and dad in Arizona and ask if maybe there’s something they haven’t told him, maybe they misplaced him for a week, left him in the car and the car was going to the mechanics, and he went without motherly love for a week or so.

Or maybe, he thinks, maybe he just needs to go out some. Meet new people. Hell, maybe even get laid.

He starts going out. Turns out Ray of the scrawny body and geeky overbite can score. Chat up women in bars. It’s kind of his first time doing that. First there was Stella, and then there was Fraser - which, nothing funny - but the guy was so good-looking anyone else just became invisible in comparison. When he goes to a bar now, women see him. Not all of them, it’s not like he’s a total stud or anything; but it turns out blond and tough on the outside, poet on the inside works for some women. The cop thing is a bonus as well. Especially since all the shit him and Fraser had a knack of ending up in makes for good stories.

After him and Stella split up he went out with a few women who'd have him, and it’s embarrassing, but he doesn’t remember any of their names, or faces even. He just remembers Stella with a sad, cold, unfamiliar look on her face. This time he’s noticing, really paying attention to all the little details – hair colors, skin colors, shapes and sizes. All different and all exciting, but he still feels like he’s looking for something that he hasn't quite found yet. A new Stella, maybe. A girl exactly like Stella. 

So he has a couple of drinks, flirts a little. Turns down invitations or phone numbers. Goes home and puts on Lhasa and dances alone with the lights switched off, thinking about Stella. And sometimes after he’s gone to bed he lies in the quiet, staring at the dark, and thinks about the red horizon in the half-dark of an arctic winter, or trying to sleep in the noise of a blizzard, in a tent that smelled like smoke and cooking and two men who hadn’t showered for far too long.

By the end of October, him and Vecchio have worked out some kind of truce. Vecchio may be a snarky motherfucker, and he may pile abuse on Ray’s hair, Ray’s style, Ray’s _car_, but he knows never to cross the line. One day he walks over to perch on the side of Ray’s desk and complains about what a pig he is, picking up china boxes and hamburger wrappers with every sign of disgust. He says, “Hey, why don’t you come over for dinner someday, eat real food for a change?” And it sounds casual, spur of the moment, but Ray knows better.

He says yes, mostly because it feels like Vecchio’s challenging him, but also because it’s _Stella_, and even if it’s Vecchio asking him, he knows this means she wants to see him and he can never say no to that. He drinks a couple of beers before going, not enough to embarrass himself. He tells himself that if he can catch and skin a seal, he can also have dinner with his ex-wife.

He steps into Stella and Vecchio's new apartment and feels immediately out of his depth. He’s shaky and angry and curious, and he’s stupidly happy that Stella’s dressed up for his visit. Stella takes his coat and Vecchio offers him a drink while Stella disappears into the kitchen - and what is this, the _1950’s_? He accepts the scotch, though, and it’s a good raw burn down his throat. It helps him get it together to go along with Vecchio’s  talk about work and sports; but he keeps listening for Stella, keeps thinking about how beautiful she is looking, about her smile when she greeted him. They go into the dining room and he recognizes Stella’s uncomfortable high-tech chairs which are now placed around an equally hideous, unfamiliar table.

Stella’s cooked something fancy and French, she’s always been a great cook when she could be bothered, but Ray’s nervous and eats it too quickly, not tasting it. Stella and Vecchio eat slowly like civilized people while he stares down at his empty plate and feels like an idiot and worries that he’s gonna be sick.

He keeps stealing glances at Stella, who looks amazing and alien; distant, even further out of reach than when she hated his guts. He doesn’t know who this new Stella is, the Stella who cooks fancy dinners and listens attentively and has a bright silvery laugh. A happy Stella, maybe, and isn’t that a kick in the crotch?

At some point Vecchio asks him about the expedition and at last they find a kind of safe topic. He tells a couple of funny stories, makes Stella smile. Him and Vecchio swap stories about Fraser and it makes it all easier. Makes it all easier, until Stella who’s been listening and nodding and smiling encouragingly, wipes her mouth on her napkin and says, “Maybe you could go see him, Ray,” sounding a little uncertain, like she doesn’t know if she’s out of line. And _bam_, there he is: laid out like a dead seal on the ice, caught and skinned. Because Ray’s been wondering why they’ve invited him, what this is, exactly. And he doesn’t know what does it - the realization that Stella and Vecchio are trying to make him feel better, or that maybe he doesn’t _want_ this new Stella - but all of a sudden he has to leave, without even trying her carefully created crème brûlée.

He goes out and gets drunk. He thinks long and hard about not wanting Stella. He misses Fraser. He can’t shake Stella’s “maybe you could go see him.”

**Chapter Two**

**Fri, Nov 2  Frontier Airlines **   
_Depart: 11:25 am  Chicago, IL (MDW)  
Arrive: 1:50 pm  Denver, CO (DEN)  
Depart: 3:00 pm  Denver, CO (DEN)  
Arrive: 6:15 pm  Calgary, Canada (YYC)_

**Mon, Nov 5  Frontier Airlines  
** _Depart: 6:00 am  Calgary, Canada (YYC)  
Arrive: 7:25 am  Denver, CO (DEN)  
Depart: 8:25 am Denver, CO (DEN)  
Arrive: 10:45 am Chicago, IL (MDW) _

He’s been employed under Nielsen for three months when he begins to understand why the beautiful surroundings were so heavily stressed during his introduction. Fifty-three reports of petty theft, twelve incidents of assault (mostly traffic-related, although two reports rather curiously stemmed from a clash of cultures between a tourist from Copenhagen and one from Jutland), one incident of breaking and entering and two routine searches for missing hikers who had forgotten to sign themselves out before leaving the park.  

Fraser knows all too well that it is wrong to feel anything but proud and fulfilled about the low crime rate, but it _does_ make it difficult to get back into old routines; and it doesn’t get easier with Dief constantly complaining about being lonely, being bored or missing pizza. Fraser strongly suspects that it isn’t really the pizza that Diefenbaker is missing the most. He has tried to explain to him the concept of projection, but for some reason the wolf finds Freudianism hilarious.

He spends a lot of time reading his travel journals and thinking about the trip: the time they had to put one of the dogs down because of torn paws and Ray spent the rest of the day on skis, his face hidden by scarf and sunglasses. The time a pack of arctic wolves followed the sled for six days and him and Ray couldn’t get any sleep at night because of the dogs howling; the arctic storm, them being holed up in their tent for days, only going out when absolutely necessary because the snow was so thick that you could get lost within meters of the camp. Playing cards at first, before they started rationing the petroleum for the primus; later on talking, lying in their sleeping bags with their breath showing in the cold air; the wall of their luggage between them creating an atmosphere where it felt safe to talk about childhood memories, fears and hopes, Victoria and Stella. 

When Ray calls one Wednesday to ask if he can come up for the weekend, Fraser is surprised and feels that he has to object - it is far too expensive for Ray, Fraser has the weekend shift and McDermott isn’t in town to cover for him - but really,  when Ray insists, he is pleased.

He searches the “programs &amp; services” page on the town of Banff website, hoping for a hockey match or a concert, but there isn’t anything suitable on for the weekend. He wonders whether Ray would enjoy a car trip in the area, has it half planned out before he remembers Ray complaining about car sickness driving on the winding park roads.  

He is aware of an unfamiliar anxiety about Ray’s visit that he puts down to not being properly prepared; to a hunch that Ray’s visit may have some unpleasant motivation or purpose - deduced from their recent conversations over the phone. He wonders aloud if Ray would really go so far as to interfere with Stella’s new marriage, getting no reply from Dief who never did take a strong interest in the hypothetical

Friday he drives straight from work to pick Ray up from the bus station. He greets him, gets his luggage into the back of his car, can’t think of what to say. Ray looks tired. They drive to his place in silence. Dief completely ignores the demure atmosphere and greets Ray with overdue enthusiasm; Ray pats him absently on the head.  

“I went to visit Vecchio and Stella,” Ray says.

“Oh?” Fraser catches himself flinching. He tries to combat an instinctive dislike towards Stella Kowalski, which is rooted in the knowledge of how much she has hurt Ray; that she still has the potential to hurt him, taking up so much space in his universe.  

“Yeah, ‘s weird…” Ray starts, then shakes himself, “Vecchio’s an okay guy, I can see why you like him.”

Fraser pulls his earlobe nervously, he can’t seem to find his feet in this conversation.“He is a good friend to me.”  

“You miss him.”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” 

“I miss you more, Ray.”

He thinks for a moment that Ray looks scared at that, but then he is shrugging, turning away. “You got anything to eat around here?” 

They turn in early. Fraser sleeps uneasily, dreams about blizzards. When he wakes up the bedroom door has slid open and he can hear the television playing. He gets dressed listening to Alex Trebek giving answers about lighthouses and state mottoes.

Ray is slumped down in the sofa, his neck bent at an uncomfortable angle, his chin touching his breast. He is wearing boxers, a borrowed t-shirt and woolen socks. His eyes are firmly fixed on the television, and only stray for a moment when Fraser enters the room. They eat breakfast in silence. On his way out of the door, Fraser hesitates “There’s an art exhibition at the -” Ray turns his head away from the television to look at him, biting the nail on his thumb, clear in his face that there‘s no point in Fraser finishing that sentence. “Ray, I’m sorry, your visit was somewhat unexpected… With more time I could have properly prepared - ”  

“Nah, Frase, forget it.”

“Well, I just want to -”  

“Fraser, it’s okay, go to work, don’t worry about it.” But he can’t help worrying about it, all day during work, finding it very hard to concentrate.

That evening they play poker until Fraser has won two bags of Smarties and three boxes worth of matches off Ray. They watch the news, the sports and a movie about the end of the world. They order a pizza that is too salty and greasy, and Fraser pretends not to notice when Ray passes Dief the crusts under the table. They go to bed at ten o’clock.  

He wakes up in the middle of the night; a glance at his watch tells him it’s three thirty. He lies quietly for a while on his back trying to figure out what woke him, but there’s no sound, nothing untoward. He turns to his side and sees a sliver of light from under the door to the living room, and now that he’s fully awake he detects a faint smell of smoke. He gets up without turning on the light, and opens the door. Seeing him, Ray quickly stubs out a cigarette, waving his hand to disperse the smoke. “Oh shit, sorry Fraser!”

The television is on; a car chase is flickering silently across the screen. Ray is in his boxers, sitting on the sofa; blanket and pillow pushed to one side, the sheet rucked up underneath him. There’s a half-drained beer on the table, an open pack of cigarettes and a saucer filled with butts. “Don’t worry about it, Ray” he says automatically.  

Ray looks embarrassed, awkward, he scratches the back of his neck. “Couldn’t uh, couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” Fraser lies. Ray moves over on the couch and he goes to sit down next to him. He wishes now that he had put on his trousers or a shirt; he feels naked only in his boxers and undershirt.  

They watch the movie in silence for a while; the getaway driver gets more and more desperate, looking back at the police cars closing in on him. Ray snorts. Fraser cracks his neck, trying to loosen up tense muscles. "Is something bothering you, Ray?” On the screen the felon loses his grip on the wheel, the car veers over a cliff and explodes into flames soundlessly. Ray reaches out and fingers the cigarette pack, turns it over and over.

“Do you mind if I - ?”  

Normally he would, but he nods. "Go ahead.” Ray smokes like someone with a long time addiction: he flips the cigarette into his mouth, flicks open the lighter and lights it, takes a long deep drag, leans back and exhales through his nose, looking like someone catching his first breath after being underwater. Fraser watches, fascinated.

“Do you ever feel like, if you aren’t around someone…” Ray stops, casts a sidelong glance at Fraser. “Are you… Are you doing alright up here?” 

Fraser thinks about it. "Well, the Rocky Mountains are beautiful. I suppose the work is rather tedious. Dief… let’s just say that he’s been very hard to please, lately. And you?”

Ray picks the cigarette from his lips, looks at it, stubs it out on the saucer. “I don’t know. I don’t want Stella anymore.” 

“Oh.” There is an obvious question that he doesn’t know if he should ask. He feels it linger between them. The movie comes to an end. Ray’s knee is pale and bony in his peripheral vision.

 

 

**Interlude: Canada**

Ray doesn’t call him. Maggie sends him a letter inviting him over for Christmas. He waits until the fourteenth of December before calling Ray at the precinct. He doesn’t know quite what to say and suddenly realises how much he has been relying on Ray to take initiative in their interactions. “How are you Ray?”  

“I’m good, Fraser.” Fraser presses the phone closer to his ear; McDermott passes by his desk with a stack of papers in his hands. He realises that he should have made this call from his home phone. He waits until McDermott has shut the door behind him.

“Ray, do you have plans for Christmas?” On the other end of the line the silence stretches out.  He pinches the bridge of his nose and leans forward in his seat. When he looks up Constable McDermott is standing in front of him, looking at him questioningly. He waves him on, signaling that everything’s okay. He misses the first of part of what Ray is saying, his voice is low and intense, hard to separate from the general background noise of the bullpen.  

“… can’t, Fraser. Besides, what would that look like, huh? You and me, spending Christmas together?” 

His fingers are sweating around the black plastic phone, “I don’t know, Ray.”

“No, you don’t.” Ray’s voice isn’t unkind.

McDermott walks by again, this time with a new stack of files in his hands. Fraser says goodbye to Ray and puts the phone gently in its cradle before pushing off the desk, pushing a few papers onto the floor. He walks through the room and down the hallway; he opens the door to his right and crosses through the storage room, flings open the back door; takes a few steps and then just stands there in the snow. He breathes in deeply and lets the cool air tickle his throat. He looks up at the sky. He only allows himself a couple of minutes, then he roughly runs his hand across his face and goes back inside to finish the rapport on the state of the Hoodoo Creek trail which he inspected last week. 

He writes Maggie a letter thanking her, but politely declining her invitation. For Christmas, he plans out a three day hiking trip along the Skoki trail. He has to remind Dief that he is a canine and as such, traversing the wild should come more natural to him than lying on the couch or eating turkey and apple pie.

They start out at the Fish Creek trail head and make good time reaching Boulder Pass. The snow is deep: above boot level - but loose and powdery, no crust. They stop at the highest point of the pass, to catch their breath and enjoy the view of the pine forest beneath them and the rugged peaks to their right, their eastside thickly snow-covered due to a strong westerly wind.  

They descend carefully, the mountainside is strewn with rocks and the snow makes the trail impossible to discern. They find the trail again further down and follow it around Ptarmigan Lake, which is covered with a thin, glasslike sheet of ice. A small pack of wolves eye them suspiciously from the other side of the lake, unused to people passing through at this time of year. Dief slinks along close to Fraser’s leg. He has always suffered from a slight inferiority complex towards his wild kin because of his mixed breed and the fact that a dog’s brain is considerably smaller than a wolf‘s.

They reach Baker Lake after seven hours, while the sun is descending. Fraser makes camp, stamps down the snow and pitches the tent - the arctic one that him and Ray used on the expedition. There is plenty of firewood close by: the trail has been deserted for at least a couple of months and a strong November storm has shaken the dead boughs from the trees.  

He sits by the fire for a while, to make sure that it’s catching. He thinks about Ray on that first night out in the wild, how exhausted he was, how he nearly died from hypothermia. He thinks of how much he changed during the trip, how strong and sure he got. He feels sad, but can’t think of the reason why. He finds his backpack and gets out a bag of freeze dried stew, but changes his mind and gets out a can of chili con carne instead, and a container of ready made dough.

He eats it looking out at the lake, his mind still working, turning over the events - and then he suddenly gets it. He lets out a surprised sound that expands and reverberates in the silence. Dief sighs and puts his head on his front paws.

  


**Chapter Three **

**Fri, Dec 22  US Airways  **  
_Depart:  5:00am  Chicago, IL (ORD)  
Arrive:  7:41am  Phoenix, AZ (PHX)  
Depart:  8:32am  Phoenix, AZ (PHX)  
Arrive:  9:19am  Tucson, AZ (TUS) _ 

**Tue, Dec 26, US Airways**   
_Depart:  10:10 am, Tucson, AZ (TUS),  
Arrive:  10:27 am, Las Vegas, NV (LAS)  
Depart:  11:28 pm, Las Vegas, NV (LAS)  
Arrive:  4:49 pm  Chicago, IL (ORD)_

So Christmas sucks. He spends way too much money on a plane ticket to Arizona, spends two days repairing an old Buick and dodging his dad’s attempts to make him talk about his feelings. He gets two shirts, tube socks and a video about Oldsmobiles from his parents, a card for all of them from Stella with the return address reading “Stella Vecchio“. He develops a rash on his cheek from all his mom’s lipstick kisses and starts going back to old habits, like whining for desert and lying to his parents to cover up for stuff. He sweats in the dry desert heat, having packed all wrong; and then it‘s time to go home.

For the sake of sparing his wallet - starved out by his trips north - he’d chosen the cheapest airline to Arizona and back. One of those that doesn’t serve any food except a small bag of Goldfish, and that’s only to trick you into buying their tiny, overpriced cans of coke. So he’s starving making his way back from O‘Hare, maneuvering the rush hour traffic and trying to remember what he’s got in his freezer, in the cupboards, did he eat that last frozen pizza?

He takes the stairs in long strides, lugging his duffel bag and fumbling for his mobile to call Sandor for pizza, with sausages, maybe get some bacon on there as well. He turns the corner and Fraser scrambles to his feet from where he was sitting outside Ray’s door. Dief’s next to him, wagging his tail, looking smug.

Fraser’s killing the brim of the Stetson, squeezing it tightly in his hands. Ray puts the mobile back in his pocket.

“What do you want, Ray?” Fraser looks maybe a little uncertain if he wants the answer.

Okay, so apparently they’re skipping preliminary rounds, but he is not having this conversation in the hallway. He unlocks his door and steps inside. Fraser follows close behind and Dief slips between them, headed straight for his favorite corner. He drops his bag on the floor; turns around to ask a question, and turns into Fraser who is right up in his personal space.

Ray feels a hot flush of adrenaline all through his body, because maybe Fraser already knows the answer to that question, maybe he’s come down here to tell Ray to fuck off kindly, but then why -? Fraser takes a deep breath, places big damp hands on each side of Ray’s head, and kisses him.

Their noses bump and their teeth clink, and really it’s a pretty lousy kiss, but all of a sudden Ray is getting short of breath and getting hard, and this is what he wants, but it also freaks him the fuck out. It takes him a couple of kisses to get from _oh wow weird_, to _oh wow _full stop, and then he’s grabbing Fraser, feeling his long flat muscles flex under the palm of his hand.

No wonder it took him so long to figure this out, because he’s never tried anything that prepared him for this, for wanting this: Fraser strong and big against him, needy, strong-smelling, hard against Ray’s hip.

They make it to the couch and Ray’s scrambling to get comfortable, fumbling at Fraser’s clothing to undo buttons - nearly impossible because Fraser doesn’t keep still, keeps running his hands over Ray’s body, running his hand over Ray’s straining erection.

Ray can hardly recognize him - this is the guy who likes museums and thanks you kindly, except suddenly he remembers Fraser shouting at the dogs to break up a fight, Fraser on skis running beside the sled sure and swift; Fraser pale and naked outside in the early dawn, washing himself with handfuls of snow; and hey, he knows this guy, he _loves_ this guy. He turns his head up to kiss Fraser’s chin and Fraser turns into it, latching onto his mouth while Ray snakes a hand inside his half-opened pants and starts jerking him off.

When he feels Fraser coming against the skin of his wrist he is so buzzed, he thinks he is going to come in his pants. But Fraser makes him wait for it. Fraser opens his pants button by button, runs his fingers lightly across the damp fabric of his boxers, runs his hands down to cup his balls. “Christ, god damnit,” Fraser looks up at Ray‘s face, and keeps looking while he strokes him, until Ray has to squeeze his eyes shut. He comes so hard he feels like he’s going to choke.

He gets his breath back slowly, keeping his eyes closed, trying not to think about how they’re two forty-year-old cops lying on a couch with come on their clothes, or what Fraser is doing here, what _they_ think they’re doing.

Fraser, lying next to him with his face pressed against his neck, must have been thinking about it, too. “I want to come back to Chicago.” His breath is hot and moist against Ray's skin.

“No, you don‘t.”

Fraser sighs and pulls away, stands up.” In fact, I do, Ray.” Ray opens his eyes and sits up, buttoning his jeans.  

“No you don’t - you love Canada - the Rocky Mountains and the wildlife and wide open spaces and -”

“ …Tourists and constantly posing for photos and mediating fights over scratched bumpers.”

Ray glances up at Fraser who is pushing his shirt into his jeans with quick efficient movements. “Okay, so maybe not that, but at least there’s no gangs or hookers or drugs or -”

“… Actual police work or dim sum, or _you_, Ray.”

That shuts him up, and he can’t think of why he was arguing in the first place. He feels jittery and happy, and maybe a little nauseous. This is not like anything he’s ever done before, he has no idea what this is or how it’s going to work, but Fraser pulls him to his feet and kisses him sweetly, and Ray figures it's going to be an adventure.

 

 

_Fin_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Say Hello, Wave Goodbye [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/389012) by [tinypinkmouse_podfic (tinypinkmouse)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypinkmouse/pseuds/tinypinkmouse_podfic)




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